


Hints

by Soll



Category: Glee
Genre: Flirting, Kissing Booths, M/M, Missent Texts, Rivals to Lovers, Texting, Twilight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soll/pseuds/Soll
Summary: a collection of shorter seblaine drabbles because apparently I go on drabble sprees now
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 20
Kudos: 54





	1. potter. potter! (more G than T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [softly] potter. [is unnoticed] potter!!!

“I’m sure Blaine will know all about that. Right, Anderson?” he asks, sprawled across the couch with careful effortless grace to show his natural dominance.

Blaine doesn’t even turn. Sebastian taps his fingers on the armrest.

“Anderson!” he says louder, and finally he turns to Sebastian with the face of a man who’s fed up.

“What?” he asks, and Sebastian is suddenly acutely aware that his veiled insult won’t make sense anymore since no one remembers Trent complaining he can’t tell what the difference is between a gnome and a dwarf.

He could throw him a curve ball.

“You look hot today.”

Fuck. Not that much of a curve ball.

Thankfully, Blaine is so used to his bullying that he just waits for the punchline. The problem being: Sebastian has yet to come up with one.

“Is that because you’ve crashed every single campfire you could find to steal their lamest songs for our setlist?”

Blaine sighs and shakes his head and Sebastian smirks. Alas, he wins again.

“Well, what do you propose?” he asks, and Sebastian didn’t really study for today’s test.

“Anything that doesn’t make middle age men cry because it reminds them of their youth.”

Blaine rolls his entire head, hand to his temple, but he doesn’t reply. Sebastian is too elegant to sulk, but the game it’s not fun when Blaine doesn’t want to play.

.

“Smythe.” Blaine says coming up to him as Sebastian is collecting his bang on the floor.

Sebastian is tempted to take several steps away, the sound of Blaine’s punches across John’s ribs fresh as the day he decided to sneak into a Fight Club meeting to see if there was any market for a betting ring. He smirks and crosses his arms instead.

“Yes, Squirt?”

Blaine comes even closer and Sebastian should really stop using Blaine’s brother nicknames if he doesn’t want to be challenged to single combat.

“You know what? This was cute when we were freshmen.” Blaine says, a low deep smooth really angry voice that stirs Sebastian up. “Then it became juvenile, childlish, and frankly unattractive.”

Sebastian smirks wider. As if.

“Be a little bit less lame and maybe I’ll stop picking on you.”

He sees Trent ready to intervene at the corner of his eye.

“How about you grow a pair and ask me out instead?”

A sudden, collective gasp shudders the room.

Sebastian doesn’t believe in blushing. His cheeks are merely flushing because he stood up too quickly and his blood pressure is funky.

Blaine is still visibly pissed, but his gaze is weirdly fixated and Adam’s apple flutter just above the collar of his shirt.

Oh.

He smirks.

“And wouldn’t you like that.” he drawls, reveling in the triumph of his new discovery.

“Yes.” Blaine says, “Yes, I would like that.”

Another shudder.

Sebastian blinks.

Then he blinks again.

“Mh?” he hums, tilting his head.

Blaine smiles like a gremlin, cheeks barely blushing in an allusive pink.

“I said I’d like to go out with you. How about Friday night?”

“Uh.” he half sneers.

“I was thinking-” Blaine squints, “We could go sing around a campfire, I know quite a few.”

Sebastian makes a very stupid noise he will deny making until the day he dies. It’s something like a rubber chicken being step on by a cat.

Blaine’s eyes shot open, and his smile is so wide and frankly cute Sebastian would love to lick it off his face.

Instead, he smiles back. Doesn’t smirk, doesn’t grin, doesn’t sneer. He’s devoid of mischievous depth.

“So?” Blaine smiles some more. “Is Friday okay?”

“Yeah.” he says. He thinks maybe he had an extra lacrosse practice but who cares. “But if you ever, at any point, try and sing Wonderwall in my presence I will dump you into the nearest lake.”

Blaine chuckles, all chest and rosy cheeks, and Sebastian can’t help himself for smiling again.

He’s merely a rubber chicken in the paws of one Blaine Anderson.


	2. missent selfie  (suggestive M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i sent a selfie of myself to the wrong number but you responded and you’re really hot” AU

Blaine is about to die.

He would like not to, but he can see the life he yet has to live slipping right through the fingers of his cold, clammy hands.

“Fuck.” he mutters under his breath. He’s surprised he still has breath to waste.

“What’s wrong, Blainey Day?” Tina asks from the other side of the breakfast table.

“Fuck.” he says again.

He has no idea how he’ll say anything different ever again.

“Blaine?” Tina asks, more worried, looking up from her own phone.

He shuts down his phone and shoots on his feet.

“I forgot I had a capoeira lesson.”

“You have those on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Fuck Tina and her obsessive knowledge of his schedule.

“I have an extra one. It’s a seminar. That’s why I forgot.”

She doesn’t seem particularly convinced, but he doesn’t wait around to answer any question. He picks up his messanger bag and runs out of the apartment. He has no idea were to go, he just knows that he should probably avoid river banks.

He ends up holing himself away in a Starbucks, because nothing says millenial misery like crying over a missent selfie in a coffeehouse chain.

He can’t bear the thought of taking his phone out of his pocket.

His thigh buzzes. Then again.

He’s supposed to tell his mother how many of his friends he’s bringing to the housewarming of their new vacation house by the lake.

He tentitevely takes out his phone.

He’s got a text from his mother and two more for the stranger he sent a photo of himself kneeling on a bed. Thank God he had underwear on. White boxer briefs he was pulling down on one side so low that some hair that shouldn’t be seen were in fact showing, but still. At least he isn’t butt naked.

Curse the day he decided that there wasn’t much difference between a bathing suit and underwear anyway.

He’s terrified of opening that chat. How did he even think that sending Eli a selfie was a good icebreaker to go from instagram DMs to texting he has no idea.

Okay, he has a few. Thank God he didn’t send a back pic, he tends to take those naked. Tend _ed_. Past tense. He isn’t sending another risque pic in his life.

He takes a deep breath. It’s better to just rip the bandaind off. He knows it’s pics already, he’s looked at them long enough to realize it surely wasn’t Eli he texted.

All of his blood rushes to his dick. He doesn’t feel his feet anymore, nor he has enough circulation in his brain to think. He can just stare.

One of the photos is a bird’s-eye view of a lean, pale guy lying on white sheets, hips up, white skin scattered with freckles and beauty marks. He’s got a hand just above his bully button, at least six rings stacked on three fingers, and God those are abs, just defined enough that Blaine could lick through the ridges.

All of which he takes in in the corner of his eyes because nested next to it is a shot clearly taken balancing the phone of said lickable abs, framing black briefs pulled down on one side (smartass), a rather snug buldge, and very _very_ long legs, one raised to show a lean slim thight that Blaine just bets would feel incredibly firm if he was to, say, dig his fingers into it as sucked him off.

Whomever he was.

The dick hasn’t included a face pic. Which is extremely unfair since Blaine’s is completely visible- which might have been a grave mistake but it wasn’t like his mirror selfie was that bad. He wasn’t tecnically showing nothing.

He’s aware of the extreme irony of this trail of thoughts, but he can’t help shifting on his chair and reading the texts below the pics.

_It occured to me that my spontaneous photoshoot might have contribuited to the growing archive of a ring of nudes trading and not, as I originally thought, to give something back to a misguided hot guy who happened to have a wrong number._

_In that case, I’d like to retire my application._

He snorts. He types back before he knows he’s doing it.

**What if it is really was a misguided hot guy who typed in the wrong number because he has two brain cells to budget and he likes to waste it all on photography and stage lighting?**

_Well. It depends. Has the misguided hot guy enjoyed what he saw?_

**He might be half hard in a Starbucks**

_Who hasn’t been at least once._

_But how can I be sure you’re not catfishing me?_

Blaine bites his lips. Oh, hell. He already has a picture of his face. He snaps a selfie, cute smile with a hint of embarassed wrapped in a photogenic smize.

_Fuck, you’re pretty._

Blaine blushes.

**Would like to say the same but I only know you have a ring fetish :/**

_:/_

A pic comes in a few seconds later, and Blaine thinks he might have just fallen in love.

He’s gorgeous. Wild hair, pale skin, red thin lips, greengreyblue eyes, even more freckles, even more beauty marks. He’s resting his cheek against his hand and he’s indeed making a :/ face.

**Oh**

Another pic immedietely comes through. It’s him smirking in a knowing way, and he had to have already took it before Blaine even responded.

He’s tempted to snap another fic but he’s a splotchy blusher and he would hate to ruin the surprise for him.

_So, you’ve got a NY number._

**:)**

_I was about to ask you your whereabouts but that was profoundly unsexy._

**Almost as much as your full stops**

_I find them very sexy, I like to finish things off properly._

**Smooth**

**.**

_It doesn’t work like that. You either put it at the end of the sentence or you don’t._

**I was planning to send you another selfie after finishing things off properly later tonight but if that’s what you think**

**:(**

_You have to know the rules before you can break them_

.

Blaine laughs and ignores his face burning hot on the hand he’s leaning his cheek against.

**I do am in NY by the way. Tisch**

_Columbia._

**Of course**

_What does that mean?_

**Hot, gorgeous, witty and smart. Where’s the catch?**

_You tell me. I’m still not convinced you’re a sleazy sixty something balding men trying to find escape from an heterosexual marriage._

**Tell me your name.**

_Only because you put a full stop. It’s Sebastian._

He does sound like a Sebastian. Blaine writes it with a pen on the side of his coffee cup, adding an “Hi, Sebastian, I’m” over the black marker “Blaine”, and a “:)” right after.

_Hi, Blaine. Hope you’re not being held hostage._

**Why don’t you come and check on me?**

He attaches his position. The Starbucks is crowded enough that it doesn’t feel like a complete idiocy.

_Give me 20 minutes._

He ends up giving him 31 minutes and one more coffee. He’s scrolling through instagram when someone crashes with grace on the seat in front of him, coiffed hair, a deep red t-shirt and a cheeks reddened by the early summer sun.

”So?” Sebastian asks in a scruffy drawl, ”Where’s the catch?”

Blaine is way more flustered that he thought he’d be, considering he basically told Sebastian he was going to jerk off to his pictures later in the night.

Sebastian checks him out and Blaine is glad he knows how to play his cards, if the way Sebastian’s eyes linger around the height of his flushing cheekbones tells him something.

”I think we both have an entire coffee date to find that out.” he smiles leaning over to rest his temple on his hand.

Sebastian smiles back, and Blaine might have to text his mother he’s bringing one more guest to the housewarming party.


	3. twilight renaissance (T?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2020 saw both the seblaine and twilight renaissance. coincidence? i think not.

"I know what he is!" Sam shouts slamming Blaine's locker close.

Blaine sighs. Not this again.

"He runs super fast and he hardly sweats! And he's so pale, dude. The other day I touched him in chem-"

"You did what?"

"-and he was freezing cold!"

"There's AC in the lab and you had a fever."

"Dude, come on! His eyes? Are they green? Brown? Blue?"

"I think they're hazel. They look really green because he's always wearing coral and slate grey."

"Exactly! He wants to trick you into thinking it's some optical shit. Camouflage, dude! And how come he's never in the sun?"

"It's Forks, Sam. None of us is ever in the sun."

"Not Monday last week! Not a cloud, and he was nowhere to be seen!"

"He could be sensitive to sunlight. Lots of people who move out here are."

"That's what I'm saying! It's the perfect cover up!"

"Cover up for what, Sam?"

Sam stops in the middle of the hallway and Blaine stops some steps further away.

"He's a vampire, dude."

Blaine bites back his grin.

"No, Sam, he's not."

* * *

Sebastian's blood smells like fresh loundry used to do. Fresh, comforting and weirdly intimate. He kisses his wrist. He inhales. A rush of adrenaline makes him dizzy, the closest thing to loss of conciousness he experienced in hundred of years.

"He thinks I'm the vampire." Sebastian repeates, placing his foot on the egde of Blaine's chair, just between his legs.

"Mh-mh." He kisses up his wrist again. He shouldn't, really. The urge of grazing his theet against Sebastian's thin, warm skin is torture.

"I risk an eczema anytime I'm out in the sun, what is your excuse?"

"Camping trips."

Sebastian scoffs, but he’s clearly entertained.

"And he belives those?"

"We don’t only go when the sun is out. He’s been with us too many times to find it suspicious I guess."

"I’m trying to picture St. James camping but I’m afraid not even I have enough imagination for that."

Sebastian’s foot presses against the inside of Blaine’s thight and he turns his face in Sebastian’s wrist, lips parting.

"Sebastian." he reprimends him, but he smirks and lean closer.

Suddenly his neck is right there, smooth pale skin flushing with heat and the thrumming of his heart and, God, his scent. He keeps his eyes well open. He can’t risk forgetting it’s Sebastian he could hurt, not even for a moment.

"Blaine. It’s not right for you to be having all the fun."

"I told you, you can have fun with anyone you want." He says, because it’s reasonable.

The green of Sebastian’s eyes is nothing more than a thin ring.

"Well, yeah. But how am I supposed to convince you turning me it’s the best deal for both of us if you can’t see how desperate I am?"

He pushes his foot a bit higher. Blaine stops breathing halfway through one. Sebastian doesn’t miss it, and suddenly he’s even closer.

"I’m not doing that."

"What if I jump off a cliff? Then you’ll be forced to if you don’t want me to die."

"You wouldn’t."

Sebastian doesn’t say anything more, lips turned in a smirk. Instead he tilts his head, ever so slowly, and Blaine takes a short, tentative breath. His eyelashes flutter.

"Just give me a little bit more time." Blaine mouths against his pulse, and Sebastian skims Blaine’s skin just under his ear. A feather light touch that just a few few weeks before had him bolt out of the room and into the woods.

"I want to, but you know, I don’t have a lot of that. Especially if you’re planning to defile me while I’m in my prime, human beauty fades really quickly."

Blaine would tell him to stop being a smartass, but he knows it’d be useless. Instead, he parts his lips some more and resists the urgency to breath when his theet graze Sebastian’s skin.

Just like that, Sebastian’s silent and his heartbeat louder. Blaine doesn’t know if it’s fear, or arousal, or both. He can’t smell it on him, but he can’t breathe in, not now, doesn’t matter how much he needs to smell it. He opens his mouth wider, and in the slowest way he can he presses his tongue flat against Sebastian’s skin.

The taste overwhelms him. The heat burns him up. His solar plexus tightens even if there’s no air to gulp down, and in the most painful moment he can recall with a clear head he swipes his tongue higher, stops until Sebastian’s heart his beating in his mouth, the faint sound of blood rushing through his vein. He never breaks eye contact, needing to Sebastian’s eyes, the slope of his cheekbones. To rembember he’s the guy he fell in love with the first time he met his eyes.

Then Sebastian leans foward by an hair, eyes dark and cheeks flushed, and Blaine jumps away from the table, gripping the counter behind him strong enough that he creaks it, wood breaking in his hand.

"Maybe I should go." Sebastian says breathing way heavier than usual. Blaine feels it like Sebastian was panting in his ear, his heart thumping in Blaine’s chest hard enough that it could almost be Blaine’s own.

"Maybe you should." Blaine’s growl suprising his own ears.

Sebastian is on his feet in what feels like a lifetime but it’s merely seconds. Blaine almost laughs. It’s moments like this that reminds him how much Sebastian wants to live, contrary to what he keep saying.

"You know," Sebastian drawls with a smirk when he’s barely past the doorway of the living room, a distance that seems safe to him and that Blaine can barely feel. "Maybe I’m not the one who should have some fun. Maybe Rachel and Jesse won’t mind if you join them."

Blaine laughs, eyes glued to Sebastian’s easy smirk, refusing to take in the slight tremble in his fingers.

"Go." Blaine says, and it sounds a lot like a _stay_.

"Okay." he smiles, and Blaine starts counting.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, until he’s counted up to 1200 and he’s sure Sebastian is at least halfway down the road to his house.

He breaths in. He can still smell Sebastian on his tongue.


	4. not a kissing booth au (again more G than T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt season 2. Kurt didn't transfer for some reason. Sebastian transferred to McKinley at the beginning of the season for some reason- and he's not psyched about it. Blaine attends some weird New Direction gig for San Valentine's day at McKinley. Finn organizes a kissing booth but Sebastian is forced to stand in.

Blaine was positive McKinley's slushies sucked. There had to be a reason why people thought it more productive to just threw it at people faces. Maybe that's why when he tasted one out of curiosity, and didn't immediately want to spit it out, he found it to be almost even good. Low expectations were sometimes a blessing.

He sticked to the walls as he walked back to the booth, not willing to repeat almost being run over by half the Glee Club escaping a whole team of jocks running after them. In their defense, Blaine did spot a number of balls and jerseys that looked like stolen goods in the arms of the New Directions.

Kurt had left him there some time before, invoking a New Directions emergency, and almost deserted hallways hadn't sticked well to Blaine's nerves. He had went for food, asking directions to Kurt's stepbrother between a girl and a dime. He had thought kissing booths had died in the 50s, but clearly he was out of the loop of what was hot in public school these days.

He had half expected to see the booth empty after Finn had done nothing but throw nervous glances whenever a scream or the shadow of a Glee kid made a peek, so he wasn't particularly surprised when he saw no line of girls. But he hadn't accounted for a change in managment.

The boy behind the booth looked less then thrilled to be there. Elbows on the cheap counter and his head dropped in resignation, the position did give Blaine quite an eyeful of long legs cladded in skinny jeans one size too big, and an ass he didn't mind to be looking at. It was kind of a mistery why the girls had run off, now that he was standing four feet away from the stand-in kisser. He even had a jersey on, even if it didn't look like the football team's. Maybe baseball, if Blaine had to guess.

He was licking the stick clean when the boy turned and Blaine almost giggled, the taste of plastic and sugary ice melting on his mouth.

The boy was pretty. Fresh face, pointy nose, a generous display of beauty mark and faint freckles. He looked absolutely distraught, but in a way that could bring destruction on any unassuming passerby. And he was watching.

Blaine gently sucked at the stick in mouth as the boy's lips shaped a smile that took him from being rated Teen And Up for mild violence warnings, to be rated Teen And Up for suggestive themes. Not that Blaine wasn't assisting him. He eventually took the stick out of his mouth, resisting the fourteen year old instinct in him that told him to make a loud pop and giggle straight afterwards. He stilled giggled, but he slipped in his best debonair smile right after.

"I was told the booth was run by the quarterback." He said, taking a step foward and a sip from his slushie.

"Yeah." The boy answered after a while, his eyes not really moving from Blaine licking the sticky sugary residue off his lips. "Well, he went off with his merry band of singing cretins and dragged me into it. I would have put my foot down, but, you know-" he shrugged. "Quarterback. A boy gotta climb the ladder every way he can."

Blaine stepped in close enough to be behind the booth, and the boy straightened and leaned his hip on the counter.

"Sebastian Smtyhe." He said, sticking a hand out like they were at a business meeting and there wasn't the distant cry of Rachel's Berry voice at the end of the hallway.

"I'm Blaine." He shook his hand, warm and solid and with a grip that would have satisfied his father. "And I could take offense. I happen to be a singing cretin too, I just play on another team."

"Now, don't get me wrong." The boy stated with a drawl that screamed preppy posh private school. "I used to be in show choir at my old school. It was a tailored offence, they would be cretins even if they were a competive rollerblade team. More so, maybe."

"A friend of mine is in the New Directions." Blaine said, and Sebastian's grimace was so genuine it almost came across as adorable. "And it does seems like they're having fun."

"It sure does. Until they start screaming at each other because somewhat somehow they still think Rachel Berry should not sing all the solos at their competitions."

"Mh." Blaine said after another sip, leaning in and squinting at Sebastian trough his eyelashes. "Got a crush?"

"Twelve year old me would be all over her." He smiled. "It would have been tragic, really. I can't imagine breaking her heart with the simple words _I like dick_ , in all the outstanding communication abilities of a horny male preteen with a crush on his History teacher."

"Heartbreaking." Blaine commented, leaning his elbows back on the counter and titling his head to Sebastian. "But maybe she would have understood. History teachers do have that appeal to them."

"Spoken like a man with a story. Can I?" Sebastian said, and Blaine sucked on his tongue as Sebastian grazed their fingers together to steal Blaine's slushie.

Blaine held on for a second, their eyes meeting, before he let go and watched Sebastian drink from his cup.

"No real story." Blaine said, feeling the blush at the back of his neck, thankfully covered by the high collar of the Dalton's uniform. "Just a general statement."

Somehow he doubted he and Sebastian were at the point in which he could confess to the whole twelve dozens of roses fiasco occured the year before, the last day of classes before summer and, concidentally, Mr. Leroy last day before departing for a archeological site in India. At least Nick had talked Blaine out of a serenade.

"I'll believe that for now."

"Good." Blaine arched his eyebrows. "Because it's true. Are you accusing me of lying?"

"I would never. Just of hiding interesting annectodes behind that hot preppy schoolboy thing you've got going on."

Blaine giggled and waved him off, and didn't miss Sebastian's smile getting softer, his eyes doing a onceover.

"Oh, don't be modest- I know all about private schools, I'm sure you're quite the heartbreaker there."

Blaine gaped and stuttered some kind of retort he never quite mustered up, and Sebastian didn't seem quite keen of upholding the spectacle.

Thankfully a voice came from behind the booth and Blaine turned to look at the girl over his shoulder, a single elbow on the counter.

"I have five bucks."

"Good for you." Sebastian said without missing a beat, taking another sip. "Millions are made of pennies."

Blaine snorted and Sebastian titled his head to him with a weird quirk of eyebrows, like he found it fascinating.

He had a way of looking at him, Sebastian. Blaine rather liked it.

"I want my kiss," the girl went on. "Marianna tells me you told Elena and Samantha and Jessica and Maureen you'd got them all mononucleosis or herpes or some other shit, but I don't care. I can risk it for you." She shrugged with admirable confidence.

Blaine tilted his head and rolled his eyes pensively, knowing Sebastian was watching him.

"Hm." He concluded. "Can't really fault that."

Sebastian honest to God winked at him, and Blaine's knees gave in a bit.

"So?" The girl waved her bill in the air.

"Sorry." Sebastian said spooning some of the slushie on the stick. "I'm not going to risk my health over you. Wait until Hudson comes around." He said, before putting the stick in his mouth with obvious intent. Blaine nibbled at his cheek to try and not grin. Sebastian was ridicolous. Blaine was being ridicolous. It was all ridicolous.

He stared as Sebastian held the stick behind his theeth, having a staring contest with the girl.

"Can I have that back?" Blaine asked casually, and Sebastian turned to him slowly.

Blaine arched his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers toward the cup. Sebastian rolled the stick in mouth and gave him back his slushie, and the girl sighed and stomped her feet.

"Fine." She huffed, marching away to some friends in the back. "Going all homo to avoid and kiss me, can you believe that? What a wanker." She asked like she couldn't be bothered, but at the same time very dramatically.

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. Blaine took a sip of his slushie, hiding his smile behind the lid.

"So." He said, softly. "Show choir?"

"Yeah. Real show choir. Acapella." Blaine hummed in approval. "But than we moved from Austin to Ohio, where they don't apparently cohomprehend the concept of coreography. Or harmonies."

"Uh." Blaine retorted, opening his arms. "The Dalton Academy Warblers beg to differ."

"Yeah, well. All male private school wasn't really an option anymore." Sebastian said bitterly, crossing his arms, and Blaine's smile faltered for a second before he pulled himself together.

"I'm sure you could give them a few lessons."

"Empty flattery isn't going to score you points." Sebastian remarked before getting back to his distraught and aggressively defensive position crouched over the booth counter. Blaine opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Sebastian shook his head to the side before looking up, and he was smirking with an edge of annoyance. "Not that you need to score any more."

Blaine almost snorted again, but it turned into a half wheeze.

"Still, I'm sure you're good. In fact-" Blaine said leaving the slushie on the counter and getting his wallet out of his back pocket. He took a ten dollar bill out of it and slid it into the booth cash box. "You're coming to Breadstix tonight. It's a Valentine's Day open-mic special. Let's do a duet, show me what you can do."

"Are you paying me for a date?" Sebastian asked with a weirdly encited voice. "What am I, an escort? Most importantly, am I only worth ten bucks?"

"No, silly." Blaine said, leaning a bit closer. "I'm offering you a payed gig, to help make up the money you lost the singing cretins." He stood up straighter at the buzzing sound in his pocket.

He took a glance at the text, screaming AUDITORIUM in all caps, topped with a bunch of very aggressive exlamation points.

"The date is on the house." He added chipperly, taking his slushie off the counter and walking away from the booth.

"What time tonight?" Sebastian asked when Blaine almost tought he wouldn't, and Blaine bit his bottom lip.

"Around eight. I have obligations to absolve first."

"The singing cretins are going to be there, aren't they?" Sebastian sighed and Blaine scrunched his nose before turning to walk facing the right direction.

"I'm afraid. But if you play your cards right, I might decide you're worth ten dollars _and_ a dinner."

Sebastian had a really pretty laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hello it's been some hot months and i'm sporadically back with a silly valentine's day drabble. just because i can. if you haven't seen my v-day card on tumblr shame on you, it's made of love and memes. happy v day ❤❤


End file.
